The Chaos Doesn't Stop at 5 PM: A Guide to Executive Function at Home.

By Liz Wooten, LPC

About the Author: Liz Wooten, LPC, is the founder of Enlitens and a rebellious academic dedicated to dismantling the broken mental health system. As an AuDHD therapist with years of front-line crisis experience, she brings a deep, lived understanding to her work. Read Liz’s Full Story Here

It’s 8:30 PM. The dishwasher is humming. A blue light from a forgotten iPad glows in the corner, casting long shadows. The silence you craved all day has finally arrived, but it isn’t peaceful. It’s heavy. The thought of making one more decision—what to pack for lunch tomorrow, whether to start the laundry—feels physically impossible. You unlock your phone and scroll, not for pleasure, but for numbness. And the whole time, a voice in your head whispers, “You’re so lazy. Why can’t you just get up?”

As you read that, just notice your body. Are your shoulders up by your ears? Is your jaw tight? That tension is data. It’s the physical receipt for a day of invisible, high-stakes labor.

You believe you are a lazy parent in that moment. You are not. You are a highly-skilled Air Traffic Controller for your family’s brains who has just finished a 12-hour shift without a single break. Your system isn’t lazy; it’s offline. You spent the entire day managing the flight paths of your children—their schedules, their sensory needs, their emotional regulation—and now your own control tower is completely out of power.

“I feel like two different people. There’s the ‘work me’ who is competent and on top of everything. And then there’s the ‘home me’ who can’t even decide what’s for dinner. It makes me feel like a complete fraud.”

Co-regulating another human being is one of the most neurologically expensive tasks a brain can perform. You are literally lending your prefrontal cortex to your children all day long, serving as their external executive function. There is a real, measurable cognitive and energetic cost to this labor. Your collapse at the end of the day is not a character flaw; it is a predictable energy deficit.

Society calls this “parenting” and treats it like an invisible, effortless act of love. That is a gaslighting lie. It is high-stakes cognitive labor with no training, no support, and no sick days. It’s the pressure to manage a full-time job, plus the after-school chaos of getting kids from Kirkwood to soccer practice in Webster Groves, all while appearing perfectly calm. The system isn’t designed for your success; it’s designed for your burnout.

THE “YOU ARE HERE” MAP: The Parental Energy Budget

ENERGY DRAINS (Your Daily Shift):

  • Making decisions for others.

  • Sensory management (loud noises, constant touching).

  • Emotional co-regulation (calming tantrums).

  • Masking your own stress to appear calm.

  • Task-switching (homework, to dinner, to bedtime).

ENERGY DEPOSITS (Building a Better Control Tower):

  • Sensory quiet (5 minutes alone in a dark room).

  • Decision-free time (ordering takeout, not cooking).

  • Radical delegation (assigning a task to a partner).

You are the most critical piece of infrastructure in your family’s life. It’s time to stop blaming the infrastructure for collapsing under an impossible load. It’s time to demand better systems and support. That’s not selfish; it’s mission-critical. Executive Function Coaching isn’t about being a better parent; it’s about building a more sustainable life so you don’t burn out. Stop blaming the Air Traffic Controller for being exhausted. Start building a better control tower.

Go Deeper Down the Rabbit Hole

A Burnt-Out CEO, Not a Lazy Parent.

A different look at the same problem, reframing your role and validating your burnout.

The Imposter Syndrome Manifesto.

For the parent who feels like a competent professional at work but a fraud at home.

The 15-Minute Vibe Check.

A low-demand, no-pressure first step for an exhausted parent who is tired of trying to fix it all alone.

*The information here is meant to guide and inform, not replace the care of a qualified healthcare professional. If you have questions or concerns about a medical or mental-health condition, please reach out to a trusted provider. The examples shared are based on general personas—no personal health details are used. At Enlitens, your privacy is a top priority, and we fully comply with HIPAA regulations to keep your information safe and confidential.

This is a Conversation,
Not a Debate.

This is not a space for debate or unsolicited advice. It is a space for sharing stories. We read every submission, and we will periodically feature the most resonant and validating stories here with the author’s explicit permission. Submit your’s below!

Liked the post?
Give it a a share!!

Sharing knowledge is one of the most powerful ways to support the neurodiverse community. By spreading valuable insights, we can help more people understand and embrace their neurodiversity, leading to more fulfilling lives. Click below to share this article and make a difference!

Facebook
X
LinkedIn
Threads

First, do nothing.

Take one second. That’s all I’m asking.

Do not try to “calm down.” Do not try to “fix it.” Do not listen to the voice screaming that you need to do something right now.

Just be here, with me, for one single breath.

My name is Liz. I’ve spent years working overnight in the ER, sitting with people on what was often the worst night of their entire lives. I have sat in the eye of the hurricane, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that the chaos you feel right now is not the truth.

It is a storm in your nervous system. And a storm is just a weather pattern. It is not you. It is not permanent. And you do not have to navigate it alone.

Right now, your brain’s alarm system is screaming. The logical part of your brain has been taken offline. That is a normal, brilliant, biological survival response. But you and I are going to bring it back online, together.

We are going to do one, simple, physical thing. This is not a bulls*hit mindfulness exercise. This is a direct, manual override for your nervous system.

Place your hand on your chest.

Can you feel that? The rise and fall. The rhythm. That is the anchor. That is the proof that you are here, in this moment, and you are alive.

Keep your hand there.

Now, we are going to make one choice. The storm is telling you there are a million overwhelming things you have to do. That is a lie. There are only three choices right now, and you only need to pick one.

If you or someone else is in immediate, physical danger and you need help on site, right now:

This is the button you push when you need the paramedics or the police to show up. This is the “bring the fire truck” button.

If you are having thoughts of suicide and you need to talk or text with a human, right now:

This is the national, 24/7 lifeline. It is free, it is confidential, and it is staffed by trained counselors who are ready to listen without judgment. This is the “I need a lifeline” button.

If you are in St. Louis, you are not in crisis but you are in deep distress and need to talk to someone local:

Behavioral Health Response (BHR) is our community’s lifeline. They provide free, confidential telephone counseling and can connect you with local resources. This is the “I need a local guide” button.